Murder At The Mikvah (22 page)

 Twenty-nine

Cynthia Bergerman stood on the Orenstein’s doorstep wearing a full-length fur coat and pointy high-heeled boots, cradling a giant fruit basket between her arms. The lids of her protruding eyes were painted in shades of pink and her collagen filled lips were glossed in fire engine red. An odd look for early afternoon; it reminded Lauren of the advertisements for high priced escorts she sometimes saw in the backs of magazines.

Lauren opened the door and Cynthia thrust the basket at her, before marching herself into the house.

“I’m Cynthia Bergerman,” she said, extended her arm. She had to realize there was no way Lauren could balance her enormous load and shake Cynthia’s hand at the same time.

“Lauren,” Lauren said from behind a giant pineapple.

Apparently Cynthia didn’t recognize her from Hannah’s class.

Cynthia squinted. “Lauren? Lauren
what
?”

“Donnelly.”

“Donnelly?” Cynthia repeated, giving her a once over. “That’s Irish… I assume you’re the housekeeper?”

“Uh, actually, I help with the kids.”

Cynthia placed an open hand on her cheek, a flabbergasted look on her face. “You’re
kidding
!” She shrugged and peeled off her leather driving gloves before slipping out of her coat. She wore a tiny leather miniskirt that barely covered her thighs and an off-the-shoulder ivory cashmere sweater. She arched her eyebrows at Lauren and then looked straight at the giant basket. “Feel free to put that down at any time.”

“Right.” Lauren set the basket down on the hall table, feeling oddly like she was in the middle of some kind of reality show spoof. A person couldn’t
really
be this obnoxious, could they?

“Can I take your coat?” Lauren asked, after which Cynthia took a giant step back, acting as though she were afraid Lauren would snatch the fur right out of her hands and make a run for it.

“No. That won’t be necessary. I can’t stay long. I’m on my way to an awards luncheon at the Four Seasons Hotel. Our business is being honored by the Better Business Bureau. I’m sure you’ve heard of us—Bergerman Bagels.”

“Yes, I have… Congratulations…”

“We send truckloads of bagels to hungry children all over the country,” Cynthia continued.

“I know. I read all about it in the paper.”

Cynthia perked up. “Sunday’s feature story?”

Lauren nodded.

“It was picked up by the associated press,” Cynthia said. “Even my parents in Sarasota saw it.”

“Your family is very generous.”

“Of course we are!” Cynthia said. “That’s why were being honored!” She unsnapped her clutch and started down the hall toward the kitchen. “I have something for Yehuda. Is he here?”

“Abba’s at the hospital.”

“Rachel! I didn’t see you over there, sweetie!” Cynthia squawked, whirling around. She sauntered toward the couch, her ass swinging. Lauren wondered how Cynthia would manage to sit down in such a short skirt, but got her answer when Cynthia sat primly on the edge of the couch and draped her mink over her thighs.

“Rachel wasn’t feeling well today,” Lauren said, trying to meet Rachel’s eyes. But as usual, Rachel wasn’t interested in any form of contact. For the life of her, Lauren couldn’t figure out why Rachel had become more and more distant lately. When it was just the two of them, Rachel usually stayed in her room. She was only downstairs now because Lauren was making lunch.

Cynthia scooted over an inch or so, away from Rachel. “So you had to miss school, huh?” She winked. “That’s not really such a bad thing is it? Well, I hope you’re feeling better now.”

“I am. Thank you,” Rachel said politely.

“How’s your mommy doing, sweetie?” Cynthia continued. “Did she get the flowers I sent?”

Rachel’s eyes welled up and Lauren stepped in. “Yehuda said they were beautiful.” Lauren didn’t mention that since flowers weren’t permitted in intensive care patient’s rooms, they had promptly been given to the nurses.

“And the bagels?” Cynthia asked. “Are you and your brothers enjoying the case of cinnamon swirl bagels I sent over?”

Lauren turned so Cynthia wouldn’t see her rolling her eyes.
Was this girl for real
? “Oh good… Yehuda’s pulling in now,” Lauren announced from the window.

Cynthia popped up expectantly from the couch, catching her heel on the bottom of her coat and falling forward with a howl. Yehuda walked in just as she was pulling herself up on all fours. Only Lauren noticed Rachel’s open-mouthed gape. She immediately ran over to Cynthia and grabbed her arm, hoisting her clumsily to her feet.

“Cynthia!” Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” Yehuda’s eyes darted about the room in an attempt to assess the situation.

“I’m fine,” Cynthia said, releasing herself from Lauren’s grasp. She stood tall and brushed herself off. “I’m just not used to this full length mink!” she said dramatically. “My three quarter length fox is at the restorer. Well, I’m glad my klutziness was here, instead of at the banquet!” she laughed.

“Baruch Hashem,” Yehuda said. His smile turned downward as he caught a glimpse of Rachel’s horrified expression.

“I have a little something for you,” Cynthia told him, extending her arm in front of his line of vision.

Yehuda blinked and took the envelope.

“Open it now!” Cynthia insisted, clapping her hands together and stamping one stiletto- heeled foot like an impatient child.

Yehuda carefully tore off an edge of the envelope and pulled out a check. He blinked and did a double take. “This is extremely generous, Cynthia.”

She smiled. “It’s for the center. Brad insisted.”

Yehuda shook his head in disbelief. Though worth millions, Brad Bergerman had never been a big financial supporter of The Jewish Learning Center. Cynthia made small contributions here and there, but her hands were tied. It seemed Brad made all the major financial decisions in their house. “This is really extraordinary… I don’t know what to say.” He held the check in front of him. “I can’t get over it. This is extraordinary! I’ll call Brad this afternoon and thank him personally.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cynthia chimed in. “He’s extremely busy right now anyway—some problem with the west coast distributor.” She turned, headed for the door, then stopped in her tracks and spun around. “Oh, there’s one more thing,” she said. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!”

“Anything,” Yehuda said.

“I want to take Rachel shopping.”

Yehuda scratched his head. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t think this is a good time.”

At first Cynthia looked completely confused. Then her mouth opened and she took a big gulp of air. “Oh, right!” she mouthed. “Because of… yes… of course.” She shrugged. “Well then maybe I’ll just send over a few things. What size are you, sweetie?”

Rachel looked at her father who nodded, then back at Cynthia. “Size 8.”

Cynthia clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! I’m going to buy you the most adorable little things!” She slipped into her coat and sashayed out the door without looking back.

Within seconds of the door shutting, Rachel burst into tears.

“What’s the matter, Racheli?” Yehuda asked, rushing to her side.

“I’m… I’m worried about Mrs. Bergerman!” Rachel sobbed.

He took her hand. “Tell me honey, what has you worried?”

Rachel took a deep breath. She shook her head. “I don’t want her to buy me presents.”

“Why is that?” he asked softly.

“Because she’s
poor
!” Rachel said, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Poor?” Yehuda repeated. He looked to Lauren for an explanation, but she just shook her head and shrugged.

“What makes you think she’s poor?”

“Because….” But Rachel wouldn’t finish her thought.

Yehuda waited.

“…Because she doesn’t have enough money for underwear,” Rachel finally blurted out, wide eyed.

Yehuda’s face went white. But he cleared his throat and regrouped quickly, his color returning. “Maybe she just forgot today Racheli,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It sounds like Mrs. Bergerman was very busy this morning… she probably forgot to put them on,” he said in a more convincing voice. He looked over to Lauren who was hugging herself and looking at the floor. “She’s fine, Rachel,” Yehuda continued. “I promise you, no one has to worry about Cynthia Bergerman!”

A half-hour later Yehuda was sitting at the table spreading some leftover tuna onto a bagel, a quick lunch before heading back to the center.

“You’re sure you don’t need me to pick up the boys after school?” Lauren asked as she entered the kitchen holding a sleepy Nehama in her arms.

Yehuda dropped his knife and reached for his daughter. “No,” he replied, kissing Nehama gently on top of her fuzzy head. “I spoke to my mother. She’ll get them on her way in.”

Lauren went to that sink to prepare Nehama’s bottle. “The kids will be surprised to see her a day early,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“She has a client she’s seeing today in Trenton,” Yehuda said dryly. “She was half way here anyway.”

Lauren didn’t respond. She knew Yehuda was disappointed in his mother; disappointed that despite the Orenstein state of emergency, Judith continued to put work before family.

Yehuda handed Nehama back to Lauren, then picked up his bagel and took a bite.

“Rachel’s okay now?”

Lauren settled in to a chair across from him and began feeding the baby. “Seems to be. I just checked on her. She’s under her covers reading… didn’t mention Cynthia at all.”
Didn’t mention anything since she’s practically not speaking to me.

Yehuda stared down at his bagel in contemplation, then looked up at her. “I realize several of the women from Hannah’s classes have signed up to help with the kids…”

“That’s right. They seem to be the most flexible.”
Probably because they all have live in help.
“When I’m done feeding Nehama, I can go get the schedule if you want to see it.”

He waved his hands. “No, that won’t be necessary. I glanced at it while Janine was finalizing it. Anyway, it looks like Hannah’s women will be here most mornings with Nehama and then all day Wednesday.”

“That’s right,” Lauren said, “I have a full class schedule on Wednesday, remember?”

“How are your classes going, anyway?” It occurred to him that he had never asked before.

She smiled. “Great…”

He stared down at his food, thinking. It was obvious he was grappling with something.

Lauren set the bottle down and propped Nehama up to be burped. “Is something wrong Yehuda?”

“No, nothing at all,” he said immediately, as if suddenly having a change of heart. He looked at his watch and pushed his chair away from the table. “I didn’t realize the time.” He gestured apologetically toward his plate. “I’m sorry Lauren, would you mind?”

“No problem. I’ll take care of it,” Lauren said. He gave Nehama a quick peck on the forehead and rushed out of the kitchen, leaving his uneaten lunch on the table.

“Mom, where are you?”

Judith turned off the radio and adjusted her blue tooth earpiece. For some reason, Yehuda sounded concerned. She braced herself for bad news involving Hannah. “I’m waiting for the boys,” she said tentatively. “You said 3:00, right?”

“3:00 at the school.”

“I
am
at the school, Yehuda—in the parking lot. They must be running late, because none of the kids have come out yet.”

“Are you sure? Because the principal just called me, asking why the boys hadn’t been picked up.”

Judith looked toward the front of the brick building. The doors were closed and all was quiet. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Judith said. She didn’t have much patience for ineptitude. “I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes!”

“It’s okay, Mom. Just tell me where you are exactly.”

“I just told you! I’m sitting in the parking lot of the school!”

“
Which
school?”

“Eli and David’s school!”

“No, I mean what’s the
name
of the school?”

What kind of question was that?
“The name of the school, Yehuda, is
Little Sinai
.”

Yehuda sighed. “Mom, Little Sinai is a pre-school. The kids attend Goldberg Academy.”

“Goldberg Academy?”

“On the corner of Winston and Oak.”

“What?” Judith stammered. “When did they start going there?”

“Rachel’s been a student there for four years.”

“But not the boys.” It was more of a statement then a question.

“Actually, Eli started two years ago,” Yehuda said. “This is David’s first year.”